


Sunday

by CaptainTarthister



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Cunnilingus, Established Relationship, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Hand Jobs, Law School, Medical School, Porn With Plot, Porn with Feelings, Smut, Table Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-22
Updated: 2018-05-22
Packaged: 2019-05-10 03:52:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,202
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14729435
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CaptainTarthister/pseuds/CaptainTarthister
Summary: Work and school are relentless, even on a Sunday. Jaime shows Brienne there is still time for pleasure, even for just a little while.





	Sunday

**Author's Note:**

  * For [catherineflowers](https://archiveofourown.org/users/catherineflowers/gifts).



> Great fanfiction is always inspiring. 
> 
> My humble gift to catherineflowers. :-) 
> 
> She was so lovely giving me this hawt threesome fanfic: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14678697. It would be awesome if you guys will check it out. 
> 
> BUT NO HATE, PLEASE. THE TAGS ARE THERE TO ALERT YOU. Don't be assholes leaving hateful messages on something beautifully-written and a gift (to me, YAY!). Not everyone ships Jaime, Brienne and Tormund and that's fine. If you don't but still read it and have nothing nice to say or something constructive, at least, then move on to other stuff.

_Fuck the sun._

_Fuck law school._

Brienne, with one eye open, stared glumly at the coffee table piled high with books, other readings, highlighters, pens and her laptop. They were hell to look at in the soft light of the lamp at night and in this sunny morning, harsher. Cruel, even. It was a reminder that she had only one more day before turning in her paper and what she’d written so far, aside from being still a few pages below the requirement, made as much sense as Greek.

With a groan, she turned away from the mess before, curling her legs to her chest and burrowing her face against the arm of the worn, dark green couch. The leather upholstery squeaked under her movements, causing her to yelp when she moved her hip and it was the equivalent of getting a layer of skin ripped off. But she couldn’t think about replacing it now. First, she was tired and just wanted to die. There was no greater excuse from not submitting her paper. Second, they couldn’t afford it. They had to put extra shifts at work to make rent and at quiet the growls in their stomachs.

“Good morning, sunshine,” Jaime drawled from the other side of the apartment. Still keeping her face pressed against the couch, she wearily raised an arm in greeting before it flopped back down. He chuckled.

“Get up. There’s coffee.”

“No.”

He laughed again. “I think there’s still enough batter for pancakes.”

“If you promise to kill me afterwards, you have a deal.” She groaned miserably.

This time, he howled with laughter. “Like that’s happening. Come on. I’ve been writing like Seven Hells waiting for you to wake up.”

Brienne sighed and sat up, rubbing her eyes. Opening them, she saw Jaime sitting at their small dining table. She sniffed. He was not lying about the coffee. Then she frowned. He was surrounded with a tower of books too, as well as notebooks and pens. His laptop was open too.

She wondered if they will be students and struggling for the rest of their lives. They met during freshman year in college and were living together by the time they were juniors. Neither of their fathers approved but they were already adults and couldn’t be told anymore.

They have been together seven years, still living together. Unlike college where they didn’t have to worry about money, once they got their degrees, they were on their own. They could have started working right away, like most of their peers. She was a double major in International Studies and Essosi Languages and could have started work in an embassy. But her dream job was to become a judge at the International Criminal Court, which meant going through the very small eye of the needle for quite a while, and then climbing the steepest of stairs. The way was filled with obstacles such as fire-breathing professors, and necessary detours like bartending and mowing lawns.

Jaime was a pre-med major so medical school was the only place for him to go. He didn’t have to—but unlike her, it wasn’t only because his degree was enough. He was a Lannister and loaded, could have any job he wanted in his father’s company. Unfortunately, Tywin Lannister refused to pay for medical school, reminding Jaime that his obligation covered only until college. It was meant to force him to work in the company, but he had a countermove. Maybe it wasn’t very significant because the scholarship covered only a small percentage of the tuition and a laughable stipend. But it was at least some money and caused a dent in Tywin’s plans to bring Jaime to heel. Last they heard of his father, he was embarrassed that his golden son had to work as a hospital orderly in the graveyard shift.

Working and keeping their GPAs up, Jaime and Brienne were often too tired to do anything else. At least on Sundays Jaime didn’t have work. She, however, had a shift at the sports bar later. She would have to write at least a couple of pages before going to work.

She got up and went to Jaime, meaning to only press a weary kiss on his forehead but his arms closed around her. She giggled and let him pull her down on his lap. He smiled, and her eyes softened. He was beautiful with his thick, blond hair, which was now getting a little shaggy from going without a haircut for months. She did like it for it gave him a sexy, untamed quality. But she was concerned upon brushing her knuckles on his cheek, seeing the dark shadows under his green eyes. Seeing the light flit from her gaze, he took her hand and kissed the palm deeply.

“You’re working too hard,” she scolded him gently.

“That’s the pot calling the kettle black,” he retorted, tilting his head a little to the side while regarding her. He nodded at her own dark circles. “Copycat.”

She laughed softly and embraced him. He smelled strongly of sweat. He probably skilled a shower beginning yesterday. But buried her face against his neck, letting out a purr. So, he smelled a little rank. So, did she, he was just being nice by keeping quiet. But he was just wonderful to hold, warm and so solid, security and love in all six-foot-two inches of him.

“Stay,” he whispered, rubbing her back under her t-shirt. “I like working with you in my arms.”

She kissed him on the cheek, staring dully as the screen as he began typing. “You might change your mind when your legs die in a minute.”

He chuckled and gave her a little squeeze. He kissed her on the forehead, nuzzling her pale hair. “Shush. I’m thinking.”

“Sorry,” she mouthed. She closed her eyes.

She was so tired that she fell asleep. She caught herself a few minutes later, but it was too late. Jaime’ body was already shaking from the laughter he was so fantastically failing at restraining. She blushed and swallowed, swiping the back of her hand across her mouth to wipe the drool.

“I know this is boring, but the snoring is a little too much, sunshine.”

“Sorry.” She straightened up a little and made to leave but he put a hand on her thigh.

“Stay. Just a little bit more. Let me finish this page.”

“Alright,” she said, straightening up. She stared at the words he was typing. Then he was done.

He kissed her on the cheek, hand rising to her face to get her to turn to him. She gave him her lips. Their breath was dry, stale from sleep, but their tongues swooped in to taste each other more intimately. She took his hand, putting it under her shirt, on her breast. As he squeezed the small swell, she squirmed on his lap. They groaned together.

“I promised you pancakes,” he grunted, raking his teeth across her thick lower lip.

“No. I take care of the pancakes. You just sit here,” she said, trying to get up. But Jaime shook his head and, smiling brightly, pulled her hand down to his pajamas.

She blushed as her fingers wrapped around his cock. “Oh.”

He was hard, cock rising a proud pillar of warm flesh tinged with the faintest pink. She sighed happily, her blue eyes glowing. Then she shifted, throwing one leg over so she could straddle him. He scooped her up closer and she rubbed her damp panties against him.

“I need you.” He hissed.

“Oh, Jaime,” she murmured, taking his face in her palms and kissing him hungrily.

Suddenly, she removed herself from him. As she removed her panties, he took his laptop and put it on the counter. For the other contents of the table, he simply pushed them out of the way. The mess could be dealt with later.

Brienne pulled off her t-shirt and Jaime yanked his over his head. Her knees knocked together once his golden skin was exposed. They were not touching but she remembered too well the hard bulge of his muscles under her hands, the unyielding wall of his chest, thick with golden hairs. He dragged his pants down.

She swallowed. His cock was positively _furious_. Hard and thick, pointing at her. The slit on its beautiful round head gleamed like a pearl. It was beautiful like the rest of him and promised the kind of roughness that would leave her sore and hungry for more in the following days.

His smile was carnal with a touch of the feral as he stared at breasts covered in freckles, her nipples tight and pointing at him. He stepped forward to touch her straight waist, her hip, before fully cupping her cunt. She gasped, swaying toward him and finding herself plastered against his hard chest. He grabbed her by the nape and pushed her head down for her mouth to meet the thrust of his tongue. His fingers rubbed her slit roughly then pushed inside deeply.

_“Jaime.”_

He pulled away, watching her. She stared at him, wanting more. Then he helped her up on the table, spreading her legs impossibly wide. She clasped her breasts, the warmth of her palms soothing her tight, aching nipples. He dragged the chair closer to the table, sat down and pulled her hips toward the edge.

“Jaime,” she moaned, hearing herself sob from the intense pleasure of his tongue sliding up and down her wet, hairy slit. She was trembling from passion, anticipation, panting harshly as he slurped loudly from her cunt. Her chest tight, she could scarcely breathe.

 Couldn’t even see straight but oh gods, how she _felt_. She could feel everything. The smooth wooden surface of the table getting slick from her pooling sweat. Jaime’s lips roughly tugging at her clit. Her thighs straining from the wide spread. Her physical and mental exhaustion were being pushed out of her with every slide of his tongue, suckle of his mouth.

Mercifully, he raised his head, started kissing up her stomach, his hands slipping under her back to raise her to a sitting position. Her arms rose to his shoulders. She arched her throat as he pressed a heated kiss there, fingers spreading over her breasts to fondle it. “Harder,” she begged, her hand closing around his to press it firmer on her breast. She yanked at his hair with the other, licking his lips before kissing him hard.

“ _Gods, you,_ ” he groaned. Their mouths remained latched as he guided himself inside her dripping channel. As soon as she felt his thick cock probing inside her, her legs wrapped around his waist.

He fucked her with quick shallow thrusts, stretching her cunt to swallow the entire length of him eventually. Blue and green eyes darkened from passion, rough pants escaping their lips in between kisses. She clung to him, loving the ripple of his muscles under her hands, the scrape of his chest hairs on her nipples, his ass clenching under her feet with every rough punch of his cock inside her.

“Jaime,” she groaned, her voice sounding high and strained. _“Gods, Jaime.”_

He bit her on the lip while slipping his hand between their surging bodies. And then his fingers were on her clit, stroking the stiff, sensitive nub so harshly that she shrieked, holding him with sudden tightness. Her mouth opened and closed, as little gasps escaped, her eyes wide as the orgasm flaring in her cunt. As she squeezed around him through her release, he shouted and came.

She didn’t know how long they were slumped on each other. Her head was still heavy as Jaime picked up his head from her shoulder. Rather than letting her go, he sighed and tightened his hold on her waist, picking her up from the table. He was only semi-hard now. She whimpered in protest, and though her cunt was sore, tightened her walls around him as he sat down on the chair and kept her legs straddled around his thighs. Content, she returned rested her chin on his shoulder.

“I thought I was going to get pancakes,” she murmured, boneless and just happy to remain like this. She turned his face, so she could kiss him.

He hummed against her lips. “You did ask me to kill you, Brienne.”

She giggled. “That’s supposed to be after.”

“Before, after,” he drawled, hugging her. “Who cares? Let’s just stay like this for a while, alright?”

It was Sunday. She had to work later but they could have this morning and the rest of the afternoon. What she would give for the time when their Sundays would be theirs, and just like this.

The sun, brighter than when she first woke up, fell on them. She glanced at their joined shadows on the floor, the promise of a future that she hoped was not too far away. When they will not be so tired all the time, and no longer as worried about money. But most of all, more of _this_. Days in which the world was just each other’s arms.

“For a while, then. For now.”

She smiled and turned to kiss Jaime again.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! 
> 
> Now back to work for me.
> 
> Deadlines, I shall slay you!


End file.
